An agreeable romance might begin to take on the appearance.

That is the fortune I found in a Brooklyn-baked Chinese cookie served to me at a Vietnamese restaurant in Portland, Maine. Perhaps the fortune's peripatetic history accounts for its obscurity.

Since returning to Harmony, I have not encountered any new agreeable romances, but the old ones appear to be extant. After cold-shouldering me for 45 minutes, Ruckus relented and allowed himself to be kissed. Anna held no grudge whatsoever, though the accidental jingle of car keys made her worry that we were leaving again. The yard is blanketed with what looks like permanent winter, and this morning I woke to the sound of Sunday morning snowmobiles on the other side of the stream.

I haven't yet ventured out to do my chores, but here's a photo of what the snow looked like over the reservoir in Amherst on Thanksgiving Day. In Harmony we have roughly twice as much, without the beautifying reflection.

And here's a photo of three brave Amherst Thanksgiving turkeys. We probably have some of these lurking in the Harmony woods, but they know better than to show themselves on the last weekend of deer-hunting season.

An agreeable romance might begin to take on the appearance

1. [of not being eaten for a national holiday].
2. [of an old dog and a warm woodstove].
3. [of dirt-cheap Vietnamese pho].
4. [of an Anthony Trollope novel I haven't opened for a decade, only to discover that it's much more psychologically subtle than I had remembered].
5. [of sitting on the couch with Tom watching Boogie Nights and being relieved/disappointed that I was safely walled up in elementary school during the seventies].